Misery
by Kichi
Summary: just a 1 shot that takes place during ch. 6 of Mask


TITLE: Misery

AUTHOR: Kichi

PAIRING: n/a

WARNINGS: n/a

NOTES: life is really terrible right now

ARCHIVE:

SUMMARY: takes place during ch. 6 of "Mask"

I am in agony. It's not an unfamiliar feeling. I've known it quite well. Never the less it drags me down and pins me like a helpless animal in a raptors claws.

I am numb. I am made of ice. I am drained of blood. I am so cold and so, so alone. I feel warmth but it's coming from my eyes and dripping from my nose making it hard to breath. I want to be gone from here. Gone from the place, from this life.

I am enraged. Hatred burns me, melts the ice that encases my heart. But only for a little while. Despair always returns. Always sinks her hook into my heart.

I am still bleeding. I try to lie still so it stops, but I can only stay still for so long. It's easier now than it ever was, but it is still impossible to lay here like the dead thing I feel I am becoming.

I was free once. It was pure and beautiful, full of sharp aromas and poignant memories. Some of them still keep me from drowning. But it won't for long. The things that made me cherish those memories have also turned on me.

I've been alone for so long, to have someone I saw as my equal was like a precious gift that I clung to despite all the things I did that made it seem otherwise. It is no surprise to have earned his hatred. What comes is a surprise is the hurt I feel.

I am misery. I am hatred. I am despair. I am wicked joy. I am grinning death. I am nothing. I am no one. I am the monster in the dark, waiting to tear your throat out with jagged teeth.

I raise my head for a moment. The drugs make the world spin precariously. I feel I'll be thrown off the bed I'm strapped to. The pain is coming back. Sharp spikes drive up my spine and force me to clench my teeth lest a whimper escape.

I had my revenge and it was meaningless. I am still here. Still suffering. I cannot smile, I cannot laugh. Sometimes it takes every ounce of will I have to keep from screaming.

The doctors come and the doctors go. The stare at me, they talk, talk, talk, but never say a thing. I cannot speak to them. They are the living dead, the dead living. Just like me.

Once I was free. Once I was almost pure. But I can never be pure. Purity was stripped away from me at such a young age I cannot even recall when or how it happened. But my new form was perfect in every way. I thought so, at least. There are chinks in every suit of armor and mine were found with terrifying ease. Now I am naked and alone and terrified like I haven't been since.. Since a long time ago. Before the rapture, before the joy. I knew deep down that such pleasure could only be fleeting. But I lied to myself. I convinced myself that I was no longer a man but something finer, something greater. More like a god than any of the putrid masses that crowd the wretched streets I called home.

I am a survivor. But it seems pointless to struggle now. It seems much more fitting to lie down and die. A part of me screams in denial, refuses to give in. A part of me wants to maim and destroy everything in sight. But that part of me has been brutally forced into submission and sounds more like a whiney child than the man I have become.

I am ruined. I always have been. Well, maybe not always, but for so long that any time before that ceases to matter. Pain shoots up my spine and I gasp before I can stop myself. I feel my features twist in grief; I feel icy claws dig into my heart. My eyes burn.

The doctors want to talk to me. I lie like a limp dishrag and stare at nothing. One makes the mistake of touching me and I cannot hold back my screams. I hate myself. I hate myself for letting them do this to me, for letting _him_ do this to me. I am hurting myself as I convulse on the bed, but it's as if I'm watching someone else do it. I couldn't stop if I wanted to.

I am screaming, weeping like I cannot ever remember doing. I feel my head slamming against something again and again. Are they hurting me or am I doing it to myself? Does it matter anyway?

They hold me down and drug me up. I am weightless, floating like the dead. All is death, I am death, and the dead surround me. They think themselves alive. I was alive once. But not anymore.

If I could be free again would it hurt this much? Would the pain leave me finally? Or will it cling to me until I die? This cannot be forever. I cannot allow it. I am not like them. There is only one man on this Earth who is as unique as me. I love him like no other and he hates me just as deeply. But one day he'll see the truth and then he'll love me too.

He has too. He must. He can deny the truth, but only for so long. And when he realizes that I matter, that I am his twisted mirror image, he will acknowledge me.

This is truly what matters. This is what gives my life meaning now. Pain is fleeting. I can't let this defeat me. It is not an option. This weakness is beneath me. I am not like them and will not lie down and die.

If I were free I wouldn't hurt anymore. If I was free I could laugh again. I could live as a lion, not as a lamb. Everything could go back to the way it was before I was sent here.

I am malice and wrath and hate and wit. I am fire and chaos and joy. But I am nothing if I let them take that from me. I am nothing if I let pain destroy me. Pain is a tool, not my master. Pain is my gift, not my reward.

I am better than them all. I am stronger. I am smarter. I will make others suffer. I will bring about their destruction. I will kill the world and dance on its bones. I will not give in to weakness or fear or pain ever again. I will learn from this like only I can. Pain is my teacher, and I will use the lessons I've learned well.

I will never allow this to happen again. I will never be defeated again. I will not be disregarded or thrown away like trash. I will make everyone see me. I will make everyone hear me. I will make everyone fear me.

A part of me is no longer human. That part has been growing all my life, becoming a monster. A monster with sharp teeth and bloody red lips. Soon he will be all that is left. The part of me that is human will die.

When he does I will smile.


End file.
